#xmas song bonanza 2k23

[randomoranges]

iiiiiiit's the return of christmas song bonanza fics! i've had this idea in my head since october 2022 when the backstreet boys released their xmas song cd. when i heard this ony particular song, this idea came to me. however, since it's not the usual Happy Christmas Fic, i didnt feel in the right mood to write it and then actual real life stuff happened.

then, this year, more real life stuff happened that was more similar to the main idea of the fic, so i channelled these feelings into this thing.

writing's been really hard recently.

this could be part of the rock star au from ages ago but it could also be just another piece that exists under the christmas song bonanza universe.

the ending is left vague and unresolved on purpose

Same Old Lang Syne

Étienne paces the nondescript hotel room he’s in. He doesn’t like it and quite frankly, the one part of his job he hates is this bit; the constant travelling and the parade of hotels he goes in and out of. He could have roomed with any of his bandmates, or even his sister, but the idea of being with any of them post-show, right now, makes his skin itch. He both desperately needs his space and fears being alone, but one of those two things seems worse than the other, at the moment.

He clutches his phone tightly and waits and prays for the line to pick up on the other end. He knows it’s late. Or early. Or – not the time one should be calling, but it’s – it’s been tradition for so long. To call. After a show. To hear Edward’s voice. To reconnect (or attempt to, as it has been of late.) And – right now, he could really use Edward’s voice – a sign, really, that – it’s not all lost. That there’s some shred of normalcy left. Hope. Something. Anything.

It's Christmas Eve, after all, somewhere. He’s a bit disoriented between jet lag, the time it is where he’s at and the time it might be where Edward’s at. But, he’s sung enough about the magic of Christmas and such. It would be nice if it could manifest itself for him. At least this one time. Étienne figures he deserves about that much.

He’s partially convinced that he’ll need to hang up and call again – or give up entirely, when finally, he hears a click.

“What?”

Étienne’s heart stills at the cold and icy tone he gets from Edward. God – that voice used to be so warm and sweet in his ear. Full of laughter and wonder. Amused fondness and the likes.

Fuck, but what had he done, really to let it all go to shit? When had it all changed from fondness to resentment?

He stumbles through the words he’s wanted to say. Tries, really, to stumble through the words he’s wanted to say and rehearsed in his mind on the way back from the venue to this bland hotel he can’t even stand anymore. It’s funny, considering, really. He’s just performed for hundreds of people and yet he can’t find the right thing to say to his – partner.

It had been so easy.

Maybe it had been too easy.

And maybe, really, somewhere along the way, he had taken it all for granted and assumed that it would always work and be this way.

(I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I love you. We can figure it out. Please. Please. I need you. Please.)

“Are you drunk? Is that why you called? D’you have any idea what time it is over here?”

Edward sounds – upset. Tired. Angry. Hurt. (God, he sounds so done with it all. He wonders even why he bothered to answer. Who is to say that Étienne hadn’t interrupted him with a lover? Who is to say that Edward hadn’t been on his way out? For good. Forever. Ready to move on, while he desperately tried to cling to the last of what they once had. If only he knew how to patch it all back together and make it work again. He could change. Fuck he’d change, he’d quit, he’d do anything – anything!)

(Would he though?)

(Isn’t that why they’re here?)

(Does he really even want to fix all of this? Isn’t he tired as well?)

He’s in a nondescript hotel room with the same stock-standard furniture void of any personality. He’s been here once like he’s been here ten thousand times. It’s familiar and foreign all at the same time. He could describe this room better than his own back home and yet, it’s the first time he’s set foot in this space. Edward is presumably in their old home. Or – at least, not following him on tour, as he had for so long.

And, really, at first it was okay.

At first, it had been fine.

Because Edward had moved up in his job and it meant that he had bigger obligations. Étienne had been proud, obviously, but he supposes now, thinking back to it, that it was where the changes had started. Edward coming to less shows. Their conflicting schedules. His own wayward ways. It had grown. Expanded. Turned into some big quantum drift where it felt as though he was living with a stranger the few times they did manage to be in the same place at the same time.

And, really, at first, it wasn’t so bad.

They always had an understanding. Edward had never minded the way he was. It had never meant anything, anyways, when he picked up some eager person to warm his bed for the night. It was the post-adrenaline high of performing. It was his own way to combat his loneliness and the nondescript hotel rooms that made him want to scream.

He wonders when the line had blurred. (He supposes he knows. He knows he supposes it happened gradually. When he was back home, and Edward was away. When lovers had appeared in their own home. When the bed had been warmed by others, only for Edward, or even him, to come back home to find the usual empty spot occupied by someone else. When it had become easier to turn to strangers instead of his own partner.)

And, instead of using words – instead of telling Edward how he felt, instead of Edward telling him how he felt, they’d both said nothing and carried on with their lives, moving further away from one another, until the chasm they’d created threatened to swallow them whole. Until, if Étienne looked back, he no longer saw the man he had fallen for, but instead some stranger he had once known.

(He’d noticed it, really, with their phone calls. When at first the messages had been funny and flirty. When every one of them had started or ended with “I miss you, when are you coming back”. When between one show and another, it had changed to “Sorry, I’m busy” and when time zones became the convenient excuse. And then, when he hadn’t even felt like calling up Edward after a show and so he hadn’t. And Edward hadn’t bothered sending him a text.)

And how much it had hurt when he’d realised how broken they had become.

Maybe it’s the season that has made him more nostalgic, or maybe he really misses home, but something had made him call Edward tonight and he knows that if he could, he’d go back in a heartbeat. (Or, maybe, what he really misses is the ease of his old life. Of Edward by his side. Of the possibilities the future held instead of the black hole he seems to be aware of looming on the horizon.)

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” He finally answers when Edward doesn’t say anything else. He wants to apologise for hundreds of other things, but maybe he can do that when he goes back home. Maybe, they can sit and talk. Reconnect. Find solutions. “The show’s over and I wanted to…”

What does he want? Truly. What does he want.

(Edward’s laughter. Sitting on a couch together wearing cozy jumpers. He has his keyboard on his lap and he’s improvising some silly songs. Beside him, Edward sits close, their bodies touching, with his arm on his shoulder. His cheeks are pink with mirth, and he looks absolutely lovely. Étienne belts one song after the other, making up the lyrics as he goes along, and he wishes every evening could be like this.)

(Soft mornings. Cozy nights. Talking with Edward ‘til late at night. Finding him in a crowded room. Kissing Edward senseless after a show. Melting in his embrace. Feeling as if they are once more on the same page and want the same things.)

“I wanted to hear your voice.” He finally admits. Once upon a time, Edward’s voice had been able to calm his greatest anxieties and soothe all his worries away. Once upon a time, Edward’s voice had brought him nothing but joy and love. Now, there are times when he fears what it is Edward’s voice will tell him.

He hears Edward let out a breath, wonders if he doesn’t pass his hand through his hair, as he’s done countless times when he’s been unsure how to answer.

“Étienne, don’t.”

But Étienne ignores him. “I know I won’t be home for Christmas, but when I get back, we could do something. We can go out. Or stay in. We can catch up on all the occasions we’ve missed, yeah?” He tries to sound hopeful instead of desperate. He knows he doesn’t succeed but he doesn’t stop even though maybe he should admit defeat and quit while he’s ahead.

“You always say that. You say that and then you don’t.”

Étienne doesn’t know when Edward gave up. He doesn’t know when either of them started giving up, but he’s not ready to throw the towel just yet. He truly believes they should give it one more chance. One more desperate chance. Because Edward has been his inspiration for so long and they’ve been through so much already, so why should this be the cataclysm to their end when they’ve already made it this far? Why now? Why now when they’ve braved every other hurdle? Why should this one be the exception when he still wants and needs Edward in his life?

They could be good again. He needs them to be good again.

“It’ll be different this time, I promise. Look, I know I can change. I’ll change, okay?”

Étienne’s never begged before. Not for this. But something about tonight changes him, as if he feels the end of their relationship unravelling for good and he needs to grasp the ends and tie them back together before it’s lost forever. He needs Edward to understand this foreboding feeling he has. He needs Edward to believe in them just a little longer.

Edward lets a long moment of silence laps until he quietly speaks again. “You always say that.” He already sounds so very far away. Further away than he’s ever been. “Nothing ever ends up changing. I think it’s best we realise that and save what we can before we do each other more damage. I have to go. It’s late.” His tone is final and his mind seems to have been made up and Étienne already breaks inside. It was always one thing being aware that this was going to happen. It is another thing entirely hearing it.

“Edward, wait.” He pleads, one more time. One last shot. One last hope. “This time will be different. I know it can be different. We’ll talk when I get back, okay?”

“Good night, Étienne.”

He’s always been a stubborn fool and he’s not about to change now. “I’ll see you when I get back.” He reiterates, clinging to this one promise. There’s a moment when he thinks maybe Edward will finally reach out, but then the line goes silent, and the call is over.

Étienne looks at the screen on his phone and watches it go black. He pockets the phone away and lets the silence of the nondescript hotel room take over.

Outside the wind picks up and howls, and Étienne walks out.

FIN